


A Place to Be

by Rachel Wilder (rwilder)



Category: Friday Night Lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwilder/pseuds/Rachel%20Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mothers, Sons, the things that complicate our lives...Tim tries to find his place in the world.  Pre-Series through Season 4 of <i>Friday Night Lights</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://devilc.livejournal.com/profile)[devilc](http://devilc.livejournal.com/) for beta and advice.

**Title** : A Place to Be  
 **Author** : [](http://rachel-wilder.livejournal.com/profile)[**rachel_wilder**](http://rachel-wilder.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Summary** : Mothers, Sons, the things that complicate our lives...Tim tries to find his place in the world. Pre-Series through Season 4 of _Friday Night Lights_.  
 **Author's Note** : Many thanks to [](http://devilc.livejournal.com/profile)[**devilc**](http://devilc.livejournal.com/) for beta and advice.

For [](http://fleurlb.livejournal.com/profile)[**fleurlb**](http://fleurlb.livejournal.com/) for her kindness and generosity to [](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/)

Tim Riggins walked into the old Airstream trailer carrying a box of his stuff. Setting the box down on the little counter in the kitchen, he pulled the door shut behind him. It actually didn't look that bad. It didn't smell that great, but it was a place to be.

He slipped his cowboy boots off, pulling his sock down a bit so his big toe wasn't poking out of the hole and reached for the box. He had left some other stuff at his old house, but the stuff in this box was the every day stuff he needed—boxers, razor, pit stick.

And the snow globe. He pulled it out and set it on a small shelf by the stained couch near the front of the trailer.

/-/  
"Whatcha got there, Timmy?"

Tim looked at his dad, unsure of whether or not he should tell him what was in the bag. His dad would give him some grief—he always did.

"Nothin'," Tim replied, his hands tightening around the bag he was holding.

"Doesn't look like nothin'," Walt Riggins replied.

Tim felt the wave of panic wash over him. His dad had promised he'd be good today. And Tim had believed him. Had wanted to believe him, but looking at his dad now, Tim was pretty sure he had been drinking. His dad's shirt was buttoned all wrong and he just looked messy. Tim took a step closer and could smell the beer on his dad's breath. Yeah, he'd been drinking.

You weren't supposed to show up at the rehab place to see your wife when you'd been drinking.

"C'mon, your mom's waitin' on us and whatever you go in there, I'm sure she's gonna like it," his dad said as he put his arm around Tim's shoulder and steered him into the entrance to the hospital.

/-/  
He bought the gift with Jason's mom. He didn't usually go shopping with Mrs. Street, but she had offered last week when he was at Jason's house for supper.

"How's your mom doing, Tim?" Mrs. Street had asked.

"Fine," Tim mumbled, his face tipped down toward his plate of meatloaf. Everyone knew his mom was at rehab trying to get dried out again. She'd showed up at the parent teacher conference totally loaded. Mr. Street had to come over and get her out of the cafeteria with all of the other parents watching. She was kicking and screaming when they put her in the car. When he got home that night his dad told him they'd taken her to the hospital again.

How many times would they take someone to the hospital to dry them out? Did you just stop trying at some point? He had tried to call Billy that night, but they didn't have him listed at the motel that Billy usually stayed at when the golf tournament was in Gainesville.

"C'mon, now, son," his dad said, his voice sharp and tight. "Your mom's waitin' on us."

He followed his dad into the waiting room. There were other families with their moms and dads sitting around. He scanned the room and then found her sitting over in the corner. It was always the same the first time they would come visit her in the rehab—she'd look tired and small. Then on the second time she'd be happier and look nicer and then by the time she came home she'd look so pretty and be so happy. For two weeks. Or maybe for two months. And one time, almost for a year, but then it would always happen again.

"Tim!" His mom held her arms out to him and he slipped from his father's grasp to let her fold her arms around him.

"You look pretty, Momma," he said, even though she didn't really.

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I miss you, baby."

"I got you this," Tim said, holding out the bag.

"Yeah, and he's been a real stinker about not even telling me what the big secret is," Walt added.

Tim's mom opened the bag and lifted out a snow globe. "Oh, baby—this is beautiful."

"I know you miss havin' the snow in the winter," Tim said. "I just wanted you to have some now."

His mom smiled, tears slipping from her eyes. "I'll treasure it always, Tim."

/-/  
This time when she came home she did seem better. At least for a little while. And Tim knew that if it was just them, that she would be able to do it. But his dad always messed stuff up.

"Me and Jason are going to the library after school tonight," Tim said as he picked up his backpack next to the couch.

"The library? Are you shitting me?" his dad said, laughing. "I'd like to see that."

Tim looked down at the floor and scuffed his shoe against the tile. He looked back up, peering out through the long hair that draped over his eyes. "We gotta do this presentation for Miss Clark's class about the Civil War."

"That's wonderful, honey," his mom said as she sipped from her cup of coffee. "I'll come get you boys and then Jason can come over here for supper. No need for you always to be eating at the Streets’ house."

"Can't do it," Tim's dad replied. "I've got that meeting down in San Antonio, so I'm gone for the night."

"Then I guess it'll just be us," Tim's mom said with a wink.

"Thanks, Momma," Tim said. Perfect. He didn't want Jason coming over if his dad was home, anyway. All he ever did was pick on Jason and Tim. At Jason's house, Jason's dad was play football with them in the backyard and helped them with their plays. He never picked on anybody.

"Five o'clock?" Tim's mom asked.

"Sure!" Tim answered as he headed out the door. This was going to be a great day.

/-/  
"Are you sure you boys shouldn't be headed home?"

Tim looked up as the librarian came over to their table again. She'd come by and asked them two times before. "No, my momma's comin' to pick us up," Tim answered.

"Okay, well, it's 6:30 now and we close at 7 pm, so do you need me to call her?" she asked.

"No, I'm sure she'll be along in a minute or so," Tim answered.

"We can call my mom," Jason whispered after the librarian went back to her desk. "I'm sure she's just sittin' at home right now."

Tim shook his head. It was all gettin' ruined. His mom was supposed to come pick them up and then they would go to his house for supper. It would be just like it was when he went to Jason's house—except the pot roast would be really good, cause his mom's was a lot better than Jason's mom's was.

"Hey, boys!"

Tim looked up to see his mom walking toward them. He knew she wouldn't forget!

"Sorry, I'm a little late," she said.

He looked at her. Her lipstick was little smeary and her shirt was pulled out of her pants. But she seemed okay.

"Let's get goin', boys. My pot roast isn't gettin' any better while we wait," Tim's mom said.

The librarian was standing at the door as they followed his mom down the steps and to the parking lot.

"You boys get all of your work done?" she asked as she opened her door. A can rolled out and landed on the pavement, but she leaned over and picked it up before Tim could see what it was.

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Riggins," Jason replied. "We're all set to go with our presentation. It sure was nice to have a little more time to work on it."

The boys climbed into the backseat. Jason tried to pull the seatbelt across him, but it wouldn't extend.

"That one's broke," Tim said. "Sit over here."

Tim and Jason switched spots. Tim knew that seatbelts were real important to Jason's mom. Tim's mom didn't care so much.

"Okay, boys--I just need to run one more errand and then we're on our way home," Tim's mom said as she started the car.

That made Tim a little nervous. He wished him mom would just drive home. If they stopped for one more thing, the pot roast might get really dry. Or his dad might get home. Or his mom...well, his mom might be stopping for a drink. He could tell she'd already had a couple--her cheeks were red and she was talking kinda loud like she did when she had a few.  
"Let's just go home, Momma," Tim urged her.

"It'll just take a minute, baby," she replied as she pulled into the parking lot of the Broken Spoke. "I forgot my purse in here so I'm just gonna run inside and get it and then we'll just hurry right home."

/-/  
"I think we should call my mom," Jason said after about twenty minutes of waiting for Tim's mom.

To be totally honest, Tim thought they should probably call Jason's mom, too, but he wanted to be fair to his mom. He knew that she was jealous of the time that he spent at the Streets' house and was self-conscious that Tim never invited his friends over to his house.

"Let's just wait a couple more minutes," Tim replied. "I'm sure she just got to talkin' to someone in there."

It started getting a little dark and Tim's stomach rumbled. He was getting really hungry. He was just about to ask Jason to call his mom when the car door opened and his mom got behind the wheel.

"Sorry, boys. Let me make it up to you--we'll go to McDonalds and get french fries."

"You feelin' okay, Momma?" Tim asked.

His mom turned around and smiled at him. "I'm feeling just fine, baby."  
/-/  
Tim was never real sure what happened after that. When he woke up in the hospital, Billy was sitting next to his bed.

"How'd you get here?" Tim asked, his voice dry and scratching.

Billy lifted a cup of water to Tim's lips and held it while Tim took a sip. "I came a couple of days ago when Dad called," Billy explained.

Tim lifted his hand to his head. There was a bandage there and his head pounded every time he took a breath.

"Where's Momma?" he asked.

Billy wouldn't look at him.

"Where is she, Billy?" Tim asked again.

"She's gone, Timmy," Billy replied. "She almost killed you, you know."

Tim didn't...but he did. He wanted to ask what had happened, but he also didn't want to know. If he didn't know, it was like it didn't happen.

"Is Jason?"

"He's okay, Tim. Just some bruises and stuff. He had the seat belt on."

"Good," Tim replied. He'd never want to do anything that would hurt Jason.

"You flew out of the car, Tim. You were in a coma. They were worried you'd die, Tim. She almost killed you, Tim."

Tim winced. Billy's voice was getting madder and madder. He didn't care what she had done. He just wanted his momma.

"She didn't mean it, Billy," Tim replied.

"She never means it," Billy answered. "But she's not hurting you again. She's not hurting anyone again."

Tim wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't seem good.  
/-/  
Tim was pretty sure Mrs. Street was never going to let Jason come over and play at his house again, but honestly, that was okay. After he got home from the hospital the house was different. His mom was gone and nobody was saying anything. He tried to ask his dad, but his dad just said he was better off with her gone and to count his blessings she hadn't killed him.

Mrs. Street told him he was lucky, too, when she picked him and Jason up from school to go over to their house. Jason said he must have been born under a good sign, but Tim had no idea what that meant. Sometimes Jason said stuff that just didn't make any sense to Tim. But that was okay, too. And he did feel lucky--except in a lot of ways, he didn't. They told him that his mom was drunk and that she ran off the road and he flew out of the car and was lucky he didn't die, but he didn't remember any of that. All he remembered was waking up in the hospital and his mom was gone.

And then Mrs. Street asked him to come over for dinner. He asked her why and she said that because on Tuesday night she wanted two boys at her table. He knew it was because his mom was probably gone for good. But he went over to her house every week for Two Boy night and let her pretend to be his mom.

He knew his own mom hadn't left on her own choice. Cause she left behind the snow globe. Tim knew his mom and he knew that if she had taken off that she would have taken that globe. She never went to the hospital without it. Nope, this time his dad must have run her off.

And just like Tim had been hurt and needed help, his mom might be somewhere needing his help.

/-/

Tim looked over at the half-broken table that the old thirteen inch television sat on and smiled at the snow globe. It was kind of pathetic, but it did make it seem a little tiny bit more like home. It was a touchstone. He sat with that globe in his hand the night of the game when Jay got hurt and he shook it over and over again the night when he kissed Lyla; when he betrayed the only person who had ever accepted him without judgment--well, the only person since his mom.

He hadn't told anyone, but she had sent a card when he won state and another when he graduated. She didn't write anything on them, really--nothing about her life and what she was doing, but she said she loved him and she missed him. He thought about telling Jason, but he knew Jay would probably want to take another one of those crazy road trips to try and track her down. Lyla would have given him that face of pity and told him how she missed her mom too. No, it was better to just keep it to himself.

She didn't know he'd become a real fuck-up who barely graduated high school. She didn't know that he'd barely lasted two weeks in college and Tim was sure she wouldn't be too happy to know that he was living in a trailer owned by some woman he'd picked up in a bar and slept with before he even knew her name.

He wished he could figure out that moment when it happened, when he started on this slide toward this place--this trailer. Was it when he got held back in third grade? Was it when he drank his first beer in seventh grade? Was it when he slept with that rally girl in eighth grade? Was it Jason? Was it Lyla?

Was it his mom leaving? Or his dad? Or Billy having to give up his whole life to come back and take care of him?

That fact was that he needed a place to be and right now that's what this trailer was. He used to think that it was going to be some cozy spot with Tyra. And then he started to think that maybe things would work out with Lyla, but the reality was that his future was probably going to continue to be a whole bunch of places like this shit hole because Tim Riggins never deserved anything else.

He shook the globe again. And remembered how his mom would look down at him when she tucked him into bed.

Everything is where it's supposed to be, Timmy. Momma loves you and there's nowhere else you should be.

Yep, that's what this was gonna have to be--a place to be. Until he figured out where he was gonna be next.

/fin/  
Epilogue

"Riggins, you've got a visitor."

Tim looked up at the guard standing at his door. It wasn't Billy's week and even though Becky had showed up once, he wouldn't go out and see her. He didn't want her to keep coming around here looking for something from him. He didn't have anything to give any more.

"Who is it?" he asked the guard. He couldn't handle it if it was Coach…or worse yet, Jason. He didn't want to face them.

"Says she's your mom," the guard said. "You got forty-five minutes, so let's move it."

It took Tim five minutes to get off his bed. He couldn't believe that it would be her. He couldn't believe that it wouldn't.

The walk down the hall to the visitor's room seemed to last forever and then it was over in an instant. He sat down slowly in the chair and picked up the receiver.

It had been a long time, but it was her. Life hadn't been kind to her, but it was still the face he remembered as she tucked him into bed at night when he was a little boy. He had no idea what to say to her.

She smiled at him, touched her fingers to her lips and then pressed them against the glass. He reached up so that his fingers matched hers through the glass.

"I missed you, baby."


End file.
